United States or China ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Witla had a fund of humor which extended to joking with his son and daughters, when he was feeling good, to noting their budding interest in the opposite sex; to predicting some commonplace climax to their one grand passion when it should come. He was fond of telling Myrtle that she would one day marry a horse-doctor.
Her eye was clear and gray though, he noticed, and she had a pleasing smile. "This is Mr. Witla, I believe," she said, coming across the room to him, for he had got into a corner near the window, and speaking with an accent which sounded a little Scotch. "I'm so glad to see you.
"It can't be done this way, I'm afraid," it was Dr. Lambert's voice again. "We'll have to operate. I hate to do it, too." A nurse came out to see if Eugene were near. "You had better go down into the waiting room, Mr. Witla," she cautioned. "They'll be bringing her out pretty soon. It won't be long now." "No," he said all at once, "I want to see for myself."
But the color of her hair and the wonder of her neck stayed with him always. There was some plan on the part of Witla to send these children to college, but none of them showed any great desire for education. They were perhaps wiser than books, for they were living in the realm of imagination and feeling.
You're going in there now with full authority, but don't you fall or stub your toe or get sick or make any mistakes. If you do, God help you! if you do, I'll eat you alive! I'm a good employer, Witla. I'll pay any price for good men, within reason, but if I think I'm being done, or made a fool of, or a man is making a mistake, then there's no mercy in me not a single bit.
I have never seen anyone quite like you before." It was after this meeting that vague consciousness came to Suzanne that Mr. Witla, as she always thought of him to herself, was just a little more than very nice to her. He was so gentle, so meditative, and withal so gay when he was near her!
Goldfarb had watched Eugene a long time, was interested in him, realized that he had talent. "I think you ought to try to get on one of the bigger papers here, Witla," he said to him one Saturday afternoon when things were closing up. "You'll never amount to anything on this paper. It isn't big enough. You ought to get on one of the big ones. Why don't you try the Tribune or else go to New York?
"How should I know?" replied his wife, who was greatly distressed over her boy. "I suppose he's just tired out, that's all. He'll probably be all right after he rests awhile. Don't let on that you think he's looking out of sorts. Just pretend that he's all right. What do you think of his wife?" "She appears to be a very nice little woman," replied Witla. "She's certainly devoted to him.
Norman has just worn my nerves to a frazzle. I think I'll come up home for a week or so." "All right," said her mother, "but do be careful how you act now. This Mr. Witla appears to be a very nice man and he's happily married. Don't you go casting any looks in his direction. If you do I won't let him stay here at all." "Oh, how you talk," replied Carlotta irritably.
I never thought Eugene would marry just that type, but he's the judge. I suppose people thought that I would never marry anybody like you, either," he added jokingly. "Yes, you did make a terrible mistake," jested his wife in return. "You worked awfully hard to make it." "I was young! I was young! You want to remember that," retorted Witla. "I didn't know much in those days."
Word Of The Day